


Failure to Assassinate

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Original Work
Genre: 5+1 Things, Assassination Attempt(s), Humor, M/M, The Lord of the Rings References, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: Five times Lee messed up a job and one time the job messed up Lee.





	Failure to Assassinate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vvirago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvirago/gifts).

> Big thanks to L for the excellent beta job!

**1.**

It was a straightforward job. Arthur Lang’s shoebox apartment had no security, so unpicking the lock on the front door was a picnic for Lee. 

The clock on the wall, its ticking loud in the silence of night, read half past ten. At this time on a Tuesday night, Arthur Lang, the country’s youngest MP, was sure to be getting ready for bed. Lee’s plan was to suffocate him. See? Straightforward.

No lights were on in the kitchen and living area, and Lee couldn’t see light under any doors either. The ticking clock was deafening. He frowned and crept over to the bedroom. Putting his ear to the door, he listened, but all he could hear was that stupid clock. He twisted the door knob and nudged the door open. Taking slow, silent steps, he approached the bed, but it was empty and unmade.

Bollocks.

Keeping his guard up, he scanned the rest of the room, but there was no doubt about it: Arthur Lang wasn’t home.

Lee tiptoed out of the apartment and closed the door behind him. Luck was on his side and no other residents saw him leave the premises, but he was fuming as he drove home. False intel had cost him an hour he wouldn’t get back and money he wouldn’t get paid. And, as he was still paying off his student loan, he needed the money. He would have to try again tomorrow.

**2.**

Lee returned a little earlier the next night. This time though, he went for the bedroom window round the back of the apartment rather than risk being seen. Soft lamplight leaked through the curtain, and Lee did a mental fist-pump – his target was home this time.

He got the window open and was just about to pull himself through when he heard an unmistakable grunt. He froze, then parted the curtain with his pinkie finger and bit his lip at the sight.

The universe hated him. Here was his second chance to kill his target and he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Arthur Lang was stretched out on the bed wearing nothing but undies and socks. When Lee became a contract killer, he had to throw some of his morals out the window. But his remaining morals told him not to kill someone who was in the middle of a good wank, and judging from the look and sound of things, Lang was having a good one. Killing him now would be cruel. Lee was many things, but he didn’t consider himself cruel.

The sight of Lang’s heaving chest mesmerised him, and even in the lamplight it was clear that Lang worked out. The man took care of himself. Unable to tear his eyes away, Lee felt himself begin to react.

His perfect opportunity came after Lang had finished and turned off the lamp. But once again the universe hated him, for there was no way he could climb through a window when he was as hard as a pole. Wincing, he closed the window. He had more pressing business to attend to.

**3.**

After his last failure, Lee decided on a less personal death for Arthur Lang. Feelings – especially sex-related ones – were dangerous in his line of work. He couldn’t afford to get too close.

On Thursday evening he lay in wait outside Parliament, gun ready to go. He only had one shot at this, one opportunity. When Lang appeared outside, Lee inhaled and squeezed the trigger.

The gun clicked.

_Fuck._

By the time he cleared the jam, Lang had moved out of his line of fire. Unless Lee moved from his spot in the bushes, he wouldn’t get the shot.

Swearing to himself, he packed up the gun. He was beginning to think this job was cursed.

**4.**

A terrifying phone call with his boss motivated Lee to spend more time trailing his target and learning his habits. Lang went to the same pub at the end of every week, where he liked to play darts.

This time, Lee’s weapon of choice was something a little creative: he coated a couple of darts in poison and kept them in a suitcase, ready to whip them out and join Lang’s game. He was going to enjoy giving Lang a big prick.

He kept an eye on his target and not on his target’s loosened tie and unbuttoned collar which revealed a very nice neck. His eyes definitely didn’t fall on his target’s arse or rolled up sleeves. Arthur Lang did _not_ have strong, golden brown arms.

Lee gulped at his beer. The group had reached four members, telling him it was now or never, so he cracked open his briefcase and reached for one of the darts. As he wrapped his fingers around it though, he felt a sharp prick. He snatched back his hand and sighed in relief when he saw it hadn’t drawn blood.

Approaching the group by the dartboard, he asked, “Got room for an extra player? I’m Lee.”

Arthur Lang smiled and introduced himself and his mates. He gestured at the dartboard. “Go on.”

Lee held up the dart, narrowed his eyes at the target, and crumpled to the floor. His eyes were closed.

Some time later, a loud slam woke him. He gasped, flailing around. 

“Wha-?” he managed to say.

“You right, mate?” It was Arthur. Great. “You passed out, so we put you in a taxi. Where d’you live?”

Blinking, Lee gave his real address. He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Hey, I’ve been wondering where I know you from,” Arthur said after a while, giving Lee’s arm a tiny punch. “Did you go to Vic?”

_Oh, fuck my life_, thought Lee. Why he’d ever thought being a hitman in his home country was a good idea was beyond him – _of course _he would end up being ordered to kill someone from his university. Damn stupid tiny New Zealand and its two degrees of separation.

“Yep,” he said instead. “Small world, eh?”

“I saw you in the library sometimes. Thought you looked cute in your glasses. Tell me, are you doing anything with your degree?”

Lee snorted. “Nope. Turns out a BA is just as useful as everyone said.”

Arthur laughed. “Should’ve studied Politics.”

_Not if it means pissing someone off enough to want me dead_, Lee thought. But he kept up the flirtation as if he neither planned to killed Arthur nor had secretly watched him masturbate.

When they reached Lee’s flat, Arthur walked him to the door.

“You gonna be okay? I mean you seem pretty sober now, but you did faint so…”

Touched, Lee smiled. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.” He let his gaze wander up and down Arthur’s body.

Arthur put his hands in his pockets and cocked an eyebrow when their eyes met. “Maybe someone should sleep with you. Make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

“Maybe someone should.” Lee grabbed Arthur’s tie and pulled him inside.

**5.**

Trailing one’s target at the mall after having a steamy one-night stand with them wasn’t advised. In fact, having a one-night stand with one’s target was prohibited, but Lee had avoided a sentimental morning after by sneaking out before Arthur woke, leaving him to deal with Lee’s knowing flatmate.

But Lee had now missed four chances to kill Arthur, and he’d be out of work if he didn’t complete the job as soon as possible. He wasn’t sure he believed in reincarnation, but he must’ve done something wrong to have this much bad luck. Not once in his two years in this job had he failed to kill a target. Before now.

Lee wore a hat and a scarf – not unusual for this time of year – but he was still sure that Arthur had spotted him. He pretended not to see Arthur and instead tried to look like he was on an important shopping expedition.

It worked until he heard his name being called. Abandoning a pleasant but unwelcome memory of Arthur’s toned back underneath him, he frowned in the direction of the sound.

“Mum?” He did his best to express his surprise through a smile rather than a gobsmacked look.

His mother hugged him. “Darling, I almost didn’t recognise you in that hat. How are you?”

“I’m fine but I—”

“Let’s grab a coffee and catch up. You haven’t answered my calls all month.”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy. Actually, I’m still in the middle—”

“That café there is always nice. Come on.”

It had been a long time since Lee caught up with his mother. If he didn’t go along with it, she might try and surprise him at his flat – or worse, at work. Sighing, he followed her into the café.

Arthur was long gone.

**+1.**

This was it, the moment he’d been working towards for weeks now. Lee had as many weapons as he could think of, and he was certain that Arthur was home. He was going to finish the job.

He crept inside Arthur’s bedroom. It was a dark night, cloud obscuring the moon and stars, so the room was pitch black. Lee’s toes narrowly missed the edge of the bed, but he stumbled on. When at last he reached the head, he took a deep breath. _You can do this_, he told himself. _It’s just another job._

He brought down the knife.

It didn’t feel right, so he stabbed again and again, but each time he could tell he wasn’t hitting a human body. He switched on his torch to see a ruined pillow and no Arthur.

“Fucking _hobbit_,” he spat, staring at the feathery mess.

A hasty retreat was in order – if Arthur weren’t at home, Lee had no idea where he was or when he would come back. Lee flipped the pillow so the rips weren’t obvious, then hurried down the stairs of the apartment. 

He should’ve known better than to run. The inevitable trip sent him flying, and he landed with a loud thump. He cried out first in agony, then in anger when he realised that he’d fallen on his knife. Pain shot through his leg; there was no way he was running out of here. Instead, he lay still, trying to minimise the bleeding.

“I give up,” he was muttering as the door opened. “I give up.”

The light switched on.

“Lee. What the fuck?” said Arthur Lang. “How do you know where I live? I saw you at the mall last week – are you stalking me? Get the hell out or I’m calling the police.” He pointed out the door.

Lee held out a bloodied hand. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said, knowing how pathetic he sounded.

“Is that blood?” Arthur’s bewildered-looking eyes now narrowed.

“Please call me an ambulance.” Weakened, Lee’s head fell back against the wall.

“You’re an ambulance.”

Lee mustered up enough energy to glare. “I’m serious; call 111. This really hurts.”

Arthur whipped out his phone. “Okay, okay. But you’ve got lots of explaining to do.”

“So do you,” Lee groaned. He brushed a feather off his shoulder. “I take it you’ve watched _Fellowship of the Ring_ recently.”

Arthur moved the phone away from his ear. “What?”

“Never mind. Just… need an ambulance. No police. Please.”

Feeling lightheaded, Lee decided to shut up for a while. He needed to conserve energy, and in this state he might reveal too much to the 111-operator. On a normal day he never babbled, but this was not a normal day.

“Hey.” Arthur was shaking Lee’s shoulder and sitting next to him on the floor. “The ambulance is on its way. Are you all right?”

Lee gave a weak grin. “I could be bleeding to death. And if I don’t resign my boss will kill me. But you’re here so everything’s great.” His smile fell. “Things were fine until you came into my life. Now everything’s messed up.”

“Wow. That one-night stand must’ve been better than I thought, considering you left before I woke up. It was a Saturday, too. And your own house.” Arthur blew out a breath. “So, you gonna explain?”

Lee sighed. “I got into a pretty dodgy business after uni. Not as dodgy as yours, though.”

“Oh, a politician joke. Very funny.” Arthur turned his gaze to Lee, a serious expression on his face. “Drugs?”

“No.” Lee contained a scoff.

“Debt collection?”

“Of course not.”

“You’re not an assassin.”

Lee raised his eyebrows. “I prefer contractor.”

Arthur swallowed, then nodded. “I’m terrified,” he admitted, “but it makes sense. Kind of. Who wants me dead?”

Lee raised his eyebrows. Considering his pain, it was the biggest reaction he could give. “You don’t know much about assassins, do you?”

“Fine. _Why_ would someone want me dead?”

“I’ve no idea. I think it’s a waste.” Lee grunted as a wave of pain washed over him.

“Why’s that?” Arthur asked, tilting his head.

“Hot young people shouldn’t have to die.”

“That’s flattering, I guess.” Arthur rubbed his chin. “Does that mean I’m expensive?”

“Yeah, but I won’t get the money. This was my last chance.”

It was almost entertaining to watch Arthur’s face grow pale. “How many times?” he whispered.

“I’d tell you, but I’m worried you might not like me anymore.”

They shared an awkward laugh, but silence followed. Sweat formed on Lee’s brow.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur checked after a while.

“I might not need to write that resignation letter after all.”

The exact moment when Arthur twigged onto his meaning was all too clear. “Hey,” he said, putting a gentle hand on Lee’s shoulder and making Lee’s heart jump. “I think that’s the ambulance.”

Sure enough, Lee could hear a siren approaching.

As they bundled him into the ambulance, he said, “Don’t worry, Arthur. After this you won’t see me again.”

“What if I want to?” Arthur called.

Lee’s throat tightened with emotion. Arthur knew enough to send him to prison, to ruin his whole life. But despite Arthur’s profession, something about him was honest, so Lee took a trusting leap.

He swallowed and said, “You know where I live.”

The invitation was out there, and somehow he knew Arthur wouldn’t make him wait long for the answer. Some politicians were capable of fast action after all.


End file.
